by Melinda Metz
THE WILD ONE
A DANGEROUS ROMANCE …
“You’re here to tell me to stay away from Nikolas,” Isabel said.
“Yeah. I am. Because you’re not thinking clearly,” Alex replied. “I know you don’t think Valenti is any threat to you and Nikolas because you have your power, but—”
“No. We are not having this conversation. Because that’s not what it’s about,” Isabel said. She scooped up a handful of silverware and hurled it into the sink.
“What is it about, then?” Alex asked.
“It’s about that you’re jealous. You see that there is something going on between me and Nikolas, and it’s driving you crazy,” Isabel answered. She jerked on the hot water and sent it splashing over the dishes.
“I admit that,” Alex told her. What was the point of denying it? It was obvious. “But what about your brother? What about Michael and Liz and Maria? They have no reason to be jealous, and they all think Nikolas is putting you in danger. No, not just you—all of us.”
Isabel snatched up one of the dishes and scrubbed it furiously “I want you to leave,” she said, without turning around to look at him.
“Fine,” Alex said. “But you have to know this is it. I go now, I’m gone. I’m not going to come running back if you change your mind.”
“I can live with that,” Isabel answered.
Don’t miss any of these new series
#1 THE OUTSIDER
#2 THE WILD ONE
#3 THE SEEKER
#4 THE WATCHER
#5 THE INTRUDER
#6 THE STOWAWAY
#7 THE VANISHED
#8 THE REBEL
#9 THE DARK ONE
#10 THE SALVATION
Available from POCKET PULSE
THE WILD ONE
by
MELINDA METZ
POCKET PULSE
New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore
This book is a work of fiction. Although the physical setting of the book is Roswell, New Mexico, the high school and its students, names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
POCKET PULSE published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Produced by 17th Street Productions, Inc.
33 West 17th Street New York, New York 10011
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com
Copyright © 1998 by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
First published in 1998 by Archway Paperbacks
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc., 33 West 17th Street, New York, NY 10011, or Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
ISBN: 0-743-43443-9
ISBN-13: 978-0-743-43443-0
eISBN-13: 978-0-743-43443-0
POCKET PULSE and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Cover art TM and © by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.
All Rights Reserved.
“Gimme a U!”
“Yeeewwwwww!” Michael Guerin bellowed in a high-pitched shriek.
Gimme an F!”
“Eeffff,” Alex Manes breathed in a husky voice, imitating Marilyn Monroe.
“Gimme an O!”
“Ooohhhhh!” they cried at the same time.
“Gimme a break,” Max Evans muttered. But a smile lit up his face as he watched his friends, who were standing on the bench of the bleachers, imitating the cheerleaders.
A perfect, beautiful, sexy smile.
Stop staring at him, Liz Ortecho ordered herself, dragging her gaze away from Max. Some guys might be happy to have Liz drooling over them—half the guys at Ulysses F. Olsen High, according to Liz’s best friend, Maria DeLuca. But Max was not one of those guys. Max wanted to be friends. Just friends. Was there a more horrible, painful, heart-squishing phrase than just friends? Liz didn’t think so.
Look at Michael. Look at Alex, Liz thought. They were both worth looking at in spite of their ridiculous behavior. Michael had jet black hair, muscles in all the right places, and a killer smile. Alex had a lean, sinewy body, deep red hair, and these bright green eyes.
Not as bright as Max’s. The thought just popped into Liz’s head. Her eyes wandered over to Max again. Nope, Alex’s eyes were nice, very nice. But Max’s eyes were breathtaking. Really light blue, with almost a touch of silver.
Sometimes Liz found it hard to believe Sheriff Valenti could look at Max and not know he was an alien. Max’s eyes gave his secret away. They were unearthly. Strange and beautiful.
Lucky for all of them, Valenti never studied Max as closely as Liz did. The sheriff was a member of an organization called Project Clean Slate, and his mission was to track down all aliens living on Earth—which basically meant that he was searching all over for Max, his sister, Isabel, and Michael. They were the only survivors of the famous spaceship crash that happened in Roswell years ago.
Sheriff Valenti was the reason Max wanted to be just friends. As long as Valenti was looking for aliens, Max was in danger. And so was anyone who got too close to him.
It would be so much easier—okay, it would still be hard, but it would be a little easier—if Max didn’t like her. That, maybe, she could learn to accept. But Max loved Liz. She knew he did. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. And that’s why he refused to let her get too close. He insisted it was safer for her this way.
Like she cared about being safe. Like she cared about anything but being with Max.
Liz took one last look at him, at the breath-stealing wonder of him, and forced herself to turn away. She tried to focus on the conversation going on around her.
“I’m making a list of the most superior cheese food products in Roswell. Number one is Crater Taters—I mean, potato sticks covered by bright orange cheese? Sheer genius. But then, Cosmic Crunch is pretty amazing, too,” Alex said. He gently placed one of the cheese puffs on his tongue and chewed slowly. His eyes drifted shut and a rapturous smile spread across his face.
Maria caught Liz’s eye and shook her head. They both teased Alex for how intense he got when he was making up one of the lists he put on his web site. But they both thought the lists were pretty funny, too.
“That’s what I like about you, Alex,” Liz told him. “You’re not afraid to ask the big philosophical questions. Why does evil exist in the world? Has science disproved the existence of the soul? And the really big one—what variety of cheese puff is truly superior?”
“Hey, what about me?” Michael demanded. “I’m a philosopher, too.” He shoved a double handful of the Crater Taters into his mouth and washed them down with mouthwash.
Which had to be one of the most repulsive combinations Liz could imagine. But I’m not an alien, she reminded herself. Michael definitely didn’t have human taste buds. If he did, he’d be hurling all over the bleachers right now.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, or you’d end up in the repulsivo hall of fame in a heartbeat,” Maria exclaimed as Michael shoveled another load of cheese food into his mouth.
“You really think I’m cute?” Michael asked. He batted his eyelashes at Maria, then he opened his mouth wide, showing the orange gunk coating his tongue.
“I’d definitely ask you out,” Alex commented, holding the bag out to Maria.
Maria wrinkled her nose. “I don’t eat neon orange food. It just isn’t right.”
Michael grinned at Alex
, who grinned at Maria. And then they pounced on her. Maria tried to squirm away, but Michael grabbed one of her arms and Alex grabbed the other. They both tried to stuff junk food into her mouth. Maria managed to squeal while keeping her teeth tightly locked together, which Liz found pretty impressive.
“Help us out here,” Alex called to Max.
Max reached over and tickled the stretch of bare stomach that had become exposed when Maria’s sweater rode up. She started to giggle, and Alex and Michael took the opportunity to cram her mouth full.
“We should pay attention,” Liz said. It came out a little sharper than she meant it to. “The game’s about to start.”
They had a few more minutes before kickoff. But Liz wanted Max’s hands off Maria—right now. She knew she had nothing to be jealous of. Max and Maria were just buddies. But it still hurt to see Max touching her best friend when he never even touched Liz anymore.
They had only kissed three times before Max announced his just friends law. But Liz could still remember exactly how it felt when his lips touched hers. She couldn’t stand the thought of going through the rest of her life without another kiss from Max. Without feeling his fingers in her hair or his body—
Stop torturing yourself, she thought. She focused on the football field.
The cheerleaders lined up in front of the bleachers. Max’s sister, Isabel, grabbed a bullhorn. “Give it up for the UFO High Aliens! Rick Montes, Doug Highsinger, Tim Watanabe—” Each guy trotted onto the field when Isabel shouted his name. “John Andrews, Richard Jamison, Nikolas Branson—”
“Is that new guy Nikolas in any of your classes?” Liz asked Maria.
“Spanish. He’s kind of quiet,” Maria answered.
“He’s pretty hot,” Liz said loudly. She wanted to make sure Max heard her. Maybe if he thought she was interested in another guy, he would—
Oh, man, I am so pathetic, Liz realized. Next she would probably start reading Susie Scotto’s “Out of This World Love” advice column in the UFO Observer.
“Pretty hot?” Maria repeated. “He should come with a warning label!”
Liz took another look at Nikolas. He had dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders and light brown eyes. His high cheekbones and his nose, which had obviously been broken a few times, gave his face a severe look. At least until you noticed his lips, which were full and sensual.
Yeah, he was hot. But Liz observed this in sort of a scientific, anthropological way. Categorizing his cuteness like she was in biology lab or something.
Maria would totally get on my case if she knew what was going through my head right now, Liz thought. Maria always said that being all scientific about things sucked the magic out of the world. But that’s just how Liz’s mind worked.
“That other mascot better watch out. Izzy is getting mad,” Michael commented.
Liz glanced down at the field. Rocky Rocket, Guffman High’s mascot, had its arms wrapped around Isabel’s waist. Isabel went on cheering, but Michael was right. She looked mucho annoyed.
Suddenly Rocky grabbed the bullhorn out of Isabel’s hand and did a little victory dance, leaping into the air.
Maria chuckled. “Ooh, Isabel isn’t going to like being teased by a dork in a giant fuzzy outfit.”
“She’ll get back at him,” Michael replied confidently. “Dorks shouldn’t mess with Iz. Watch.”
Sure enough, Isabel stopped cheering and turned to the mascot with a menacing expression on her face. She held out her hand for the bullhorn.
Rocky shook his big pointed head. Isabel took another step toward him—and stopped. Rocky had jumped high into the air, out of her reach.
The crowd gave a collective gasp as he flipped over in midair, flew about ten feet backward, and landed head down in the trash can full of ice for the football players.
“Whoa, did you see that?” a girl behind Liz exclaimed. “He jumped, like, fifteen feet in the air!”
Rocky struggled out of the trash can and flounced back over to the other side of the field. Liz noticed Isabel smirking at the mascot as he left.
“The weight-to-volume ratio should never have allowed that kind of lift,” Liz said thoughtfully.
Maria, Michael, and Alex gave her those blank looks they got whenever she said something sort of scientific.
“Could you say that in English, Mr. Spock?” Maria teased.
“Liz is saying that according to the laws of physics, a guy in a big, heavy mascot costume should never have been able to jump so high in the air,” Max explained.
Michael frowned at him. “Not without help, you mean.”
“Exactly,” Max said.
Isabel pulled the scrunchie out of her ponytail and shook her blond hair free. She liked the way it looked down, all loose around her shoulders. Guys seemed to like it that way, too. In fact, guys seemed to like pretty much everything about Isabel. A satisfied little smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“I can’t believe the flip that Guffman mascot did.” Stacey Scheinin gave a little hop—and landed on the makeup bag Isabel had just placed on the floor in front of her locker. Isabel gave Stacey a death look, but Stacey didn’t seem to notice. She just kept chattering—as usual. Stacey loved to hear herself talk.
“It was like, whee!” Stacey exclaimed. “I think we should all take gymnastics lessons so we can get some moves like that into our routines. What do you say, girls?”
There was a chorus of yeahs and greats, and some general squeals of approval from the Stacey wannabes. Isabel rolled her eyes. The cheerleading squad was divided into two groups—girls who hated Stacey and girls who were trying to become Stacey.
Isabel was definitely in the first group. Why would she possibly want to be like Stacey? The girl was always smiling, or giggling, or squealing, or doing all three at once. But underneath all that syrupy, sugary, humongous-dentist-bill-inducing sweetie-pieness, she had the killer instincts of a cobra.
“Especially you, Isabel,” Stacey added. “Maybe if you had some gymnastics training, you wouldn’t have such a hard time with the Alien Invasion routine.”
Isabel ignored her. Stacey took her job as head cheerleader way too seriously. Obviously it was going to be the high point of her whole pathetic little life. And besides, Isabel’s jumps were perfect.
“Well, Nikolas Branson seemed to think Isabel looked pretty good during Alien Invasion,” Tish Okabe commented. “He couldn’t stop staring at her.”
Oooh. Good one, Tish, Isabel thought. Stacey had already made it very clear that she wanted new-boy Nikolas.
Stacey shot Tish an evil look. Tish grinned back.
Isabel chuckled. Her best friend was the kind of person who could find something to like in pretty much anyone. Except Stacey.
“I wouldn’t mind taking some gymnastics lessons from Nikolas,” Lucinda Baker called from her locker.
Isabel thought Lucinda was basically cool. She definitely wasn’t trying to be Stacey. But she was of those girls who just tried a little too hard to be out there—a ripped-black-tights-and-green-lipstick type. Isabel had heard the only reason Lucinda went out for the cheerleading squad was because her mom paid her a thousand bucks.
“Like that would ever happen. Nikolas isn’t desperate enough to hang out with you, Loose-inda,” one of Stacey’s girls said.
Isabel pulled on her jeans. She wanted to get out of there. The estrogen level in the locker room was way too high. There was something about spending too long in an all-girl zone that got on her nerves.
“Let’s start a pool on who’s going to snag Nikolas!” someone called from the next row of lockers. Isabel wasn’t sure who. One of the Stacey-ettes. They all tried to talk in her high little voice, so they ended up sounding a lot alike.
“We don’t need a pool for that. Nikolas will go to the hottest girl in school, which would be moi,” Stacey announced.
Tish gave Isabel a why-are-you-letting-her-get-away-with-that look. But Isabel wasn’t in the mood for a verbal catfight with
Stacey.
“If you’re so hot, why does every guy in school want to go out with Isabel?” Tish asked Stacey.
“Oh, right—they all want Izzy. Then why was she dancing with Alex Manes at the homecoming dance?” Stacey shot back.
Ouch. It’s true Alex wasn’t exactly part of the royal court, or whatever you wanted to call it, of Olsen High. And usually the most popular girls—which definitely included Isabel—hung out with the most popular guys, period.
“He’s just one of my love slaves. I have to give them a break occasionally or they get despondent, forget to eat, and waste away to nothing,” Isabel said, keeping her tone casual.
The only reason Isabel had allowed herself to be seen with Alex that night was because he had been part of a plan to keep Sheriff Valenti from discovering the truth about her, Max, and Michael. It’s not as if Isabel could have refused to dance with a guy who was helping save her life.
Well, if she was totally honest with herself, Isabel had to admit that wasn’t the only reason she’d agreed to dance with Alex. There was just something weirdly irresistible about him. He had this wacked sense of humor. He was smart. And when he touched her, well, the boy did know what to do with his hands.
Isabel checked her makeup in the mirror inside her locker door and added a fresh coat of cinaberry lipstick. Then she grabbed her bag and headed toward the exit leading to the gym.
“I’ll tell Nikolas you’ve got a little crush on him,” she called to Stacey. “Maybe I can convince him to give you a break.”
Isabel swept out the door before Stacey had a chance to answer. She could just imagine Stacey’s cute little face turning red with anger.
“Isabel!” Max called.
Isabel turned and saw her brother waiting for her. He did not look happy. Neither did Liz, Maria, or Michael. Even Alex, who usually couldn’t stop grinning like a fool when he saw her, looked sort of grim.
Something must have happened. Something big. Something bad. Did Valenti figure out the truth about them? Did he know who they were? Isabel walked rapidly over to her friends, her shoes echoing in the empty gym.
